Unlikely Attraction
by Quills of Time
Summary: A series of encounters between Draco and Hermione that lead to a mutual attraction developing between the two. However, will they get over their own prejudices and their friends' disapproval to share their feelings with one another? R


**Disclaimer:**** Nope, none of the characters are mine. Go ask J.K. Rowling where she got the ideas for their characters from.**

**A/N****: One of my first fanfictions ever, so be nice :D Hope you enjoy it!**

"Come on, Hermione you can't be going to the library _again!_" Ron complained, frowning at his friend as they left the Great Hall together after lunch.

"Where else am I supposed to go to do my homework, Ron?" she asked him, the frustration visible in her eyes. "The common room isn't exactly the best place to concentrate in, you know, what with all the Wizarding Chess happening…"

"But that Potions assignment isn't due for another week!" the redhead exclaimed.

"Which doesn't mean I can't get a head start," she bit back.

"Drop it, Ron," Harry muttered, his head pounding already from his friends; constant bickering. Unlike him, they never seemed to get tired of it. "She'll come join us when she's done… won't you?"

Hermione looked at the pleading green eyes and nodded. She supposed that she could hurry up with her essay and spend some time with her friends – after all, she hadn't been doing that nearly enough recently, and Merlin knew she could do with the rest.

"Trouble in Paradise?" a familiar drawl reached them, halting the three Gryffindors in their footsteps. Despite Hermione's warning glance, neither Harry nor Ron could keep the murderous scowls reserved specially for Draco Malfoy off their faces.

He was provoking them, as usual, but he reveled in the ease with which his words riled up Potter and Weasley. He could never understand how the two could be so hot-headed; in fact, if he were to be honest with himself, he was quite certain that without Granger's logical voice whispering there common sense back into their heads, he would have gotten them into enough fights and trouble to have them expelled.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry spat.

Draco noticed the wand in the boy's hand and smirked. He had just proved his point; oh, how he loved to be able to exert such a power and influence over them, and using mere words, too!

Pity that Granger was always around to stop them hexing him and getting themselves into trouble. He heard Blaise's snigger next to him; yes, his best friend enjoyed this almost as much as he did himself. After all, what Slytherin didn't enjoy mocking famous Harry Potter?

"Nothing from you, Potter," Draco shook his head, simultaneously making sure his wand was within reach in his pocket. Just in case. "Though I could do with a cloth to clean my broomstick… tell me, Weasel, you don't happen to have any spare robes I could use, do you?"

With a snarl, Ron threw himself at the blond, only to be restrained at the last moment and with great difficulty by a fuming and flushed Hermione.

"I said, _drop it_," she tugged at his arm, hard, before turning to the Pureblood. "As for a cloth you could use, why don't you ask Parkinson, she seems to have loads of _small_ pieces of material. The stuff she wears can hardly qualify as clothing, after all."

Hermione stared up at him defiantly, and Draco had to fight the sudden unexpected urge to smile at her. He couldn't deny that she had a point, although he would never in a million years admit to agreeing with the know-it-all Gryffindor out loud. As he looked at her in that moment, however, he couldn't help noticing that she wasn't as bad looking as he had always assumed.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head with a sudden frown, Draco felt rather than saw Pansy blushing furiously, her wand already in her hand as the trio turned away from them.

"No," he whispered, pushing her back. "Drop it."

He stared after them, his eyes focused on Hermione as he wondered when he had stopped thinking of her as nothing more than a Gryffindor Mudblood.

-------------------

Hermione hummed quietly to herself as she strode swiftly down the corridor, her arms forming a crib of sorts for the newest additions to the Hogwarts Library she had convinced Madam Pince into lending her for the night. Her mind was already swirling around the undiscovered magic the smooth pages held, when she noticed a figure leaning over one of the statues by the wall.

The statue of the one-eyed witch, to be exact.

As soon as she recognized the secret entrance into Hogsmeade, her eyes narrowed. To the best of her knowledge no one apart from the Weasley twins and the Trio knew about this passage, and the blonde head she saw emerging from behind the stone most certainly did not belong to any of them.

"Malfoy, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, striding towards him with a raised eyebrow, her tone dripping with suspicion.

The Slytherin straightened up suddenly, his surprised yet hostile expression and tense movements betraying that he had not been doing what he was supposed to. It took him only a moment, though, to regain his composure and for his face to don his default icy expression.

"And why the hell do you care?" he retorted.

"Because I happen to be the Head Girl. It's my job to care if I see students acting suspiciously," she stopped walking barely a metre's length away from him.

_Especially if said students happen to be Slytherins and the heirs of known Death Eaters,_ she added to herself, but did not dare say it out loud.

"I'm acting suspiciously? Be honest, Granger, if you caught me looking up Polyjuice Potion you'd think I was about to brew it rather than write an essay on it," he bit back, and turned to go.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she processed what he just said. She wouldn't do that, she knew Snape had set them that essay last week! Of course, she was sure Draco had other uses for the book she saw him take out of the Restricted Section than just as a point of reference, but…

Well, perhaps she was too quick to suspect him, she admitted to herself. _Better safe than sorry, though_, she thought.

"I don't get suspicious unless I have some grounds for it," she replied, unable to let him have the last word.

"Oh? And what grounds would those be, that I curse the statue so it hexes the next passer-by?" he swiveled round to face her again.

"No, of course not! But what am I supposed to think when I see you snooping around a se... certain statue, as if you're looking for something?" she stopped herself just in time, but her wide-eyed gaze saw in Draco's face that he had noticed the slip up.

In an instant he was beside her, his hands on her upper arms slamming her roughly against the wall as he stared down at her slightly frightened but defiant features, her books falling haphazardly around them.

"If you ever tell anyone about this…" he growled, his fingers digging into her skin through her robes as if to accentuate each word.

"What will you do, hunt me down and kill me?" she demanded angrily, fruitlessly trying to free herself.

Draco looked almost surprised by that statement, and his grip softened along with his expression. "No, I wouldn't _kill_ you, Granger. Just… please, keep this to yourself, if you know what's good for you."

And just like that, he was gone. Hermione stood still for another minute, absently massaging her arms as she stared after him. She wondered why he had suddenly backed down, why he hadn't shown the desire to see her death, why he hadn't once called her 'Mudblood'.

----------------------

The red and gold scarves blew in the wind as the Gryffindors cheered their players on, ignoring the jeers from the silvery green masses when Ron saved a goal. Draco tried to ignore all the sounds which floated up to him as he circled above the game, his eyes automatically searching roving the skies for the Snitch.

Or at least, that's what he told himself. He ignored the fact that his gaze seemed drawn in the direction of the stands much too often than it should have been, trying to find the Head Girl.

Her immediate accusation of him wanting her death had shocked him, to say the least. Ever since participating in his first activity for the Dark Lord with his father, which included witnessing an innocent murder, Draco had avoided all conversation, thoughts or even jokes about death. He had forgotten that the Golden Trio knew nothing about his sudden change of heart; only his closest friends had noticed it, as well as his lack of enthusiasm for the upcoming ceremony of receiving the Dark Mark.

A Bludger aimed at his head pushed all thoughts of death from his mind, however, as he dropped low to avoid it and consequently crashed straight into the Gryffindor seeker. Losing their balance completely and, in Draco's case, also his grip on his broom, they feel to the ground in a tangled heap.

"What were you doing, flying straight into my path?" Harry yelled, getting up first and finding his wand.

"You should have looked where you were flying,_ I_ was just trying to save myself some broken b-OUCH!" the Slytherin had also intended to extract his wand, but just as he was pulling it out, another Bludger slammed into his elbow and straight into Harry, who fell to the ground, winded.

The Gryffindor reacted instinctively, disarming the already injured Draco almost immediately after falling to the ground, before his brain had registered that it wasn't the blond but a Bludger which had attacked him.

"Stop this at once!" Madam Hooch ordered, glaring at both of them as she marched closer at an alarmingly fast pace, followed by a crowd of students and teachers who had no idea what had happened, just that the two seekers had suddenly dropped from the sky like stones.

Draco winced at the throbbing pain in his elbow as he tried to sit up. He vaguely registered the flying instructor telling him to go to the Hospital Wing to mend his arm, and Hermione running up to Harry with a worried look on her face.

Was it just him, or did he see relief there, too, when she saw him push Blaise away and start making his way to the castle on his own?

------------------

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione leaned her forehead against the bookshelf in front of her after another futile attempt at retrieving a certain tome she needed. It was, of course, on the very top shelf, the one she couldn't reach no matter how much she tried.

"Here," she suddenly heard a low voice right by her ear, the person's breath tickling her neck as a well-toned body leaned momentarily flush up against hers.

Draco stood back, the book in his hand as he extended it to her with a smirk softly playing on his features, growing wider as he noticed her flushed face when she turned around to face him.

"Th…thank you," she stammered, taking the book from him and looking at him as if she'd never seen him before.

That was exactly what Hermione felt like, too. Because when would the old, cruel, selfish and arrogant Malfoy actually help her, for no reason at all? Although she had suspected that the boy had changed recently (even if grudgingly, she had already admitted to herself that she'd been observing him. Discreetly), she had never really considered it to be a major change. And yet it seemed to be exactly that.

"You're welcome, although next time you might want to use your wand," he nodded. "Though I suppose the lack of a magical upbringing has something to do with your inability to think clearly…"

Even though Hermione saw nothing positive in that comment, they way his grey eyes looked silver in the light, and the lack of any malice in his voice made it sound almost like a compliment to her.

"Yeah, well, better that than having a magical upbringing and a clouded mind to top it off," she replied, almost smiling.

"I was just stretching my arm, you know, to see if the joints work as they should," Draco defended himself, noticing his _faux-pas_ a moment too late.

If she were to be honest with herself, though, Hermione really didn't mind feeling the slight pressure of his body against hers. Or having a civil conversation with him, for once. She looked down at her book before meeting his eyes again.

"And how is the injury healing, then?" she asked, surprised herself at the playful tone in her voice.

"Fine, though I really hope Potter watches out the next time we play, I'm not letting him get away with…"

Hermione interrupted him, the smile suddenly gone, replaced with a frown which shadowed angry and defensive eyes.

"Hey, it wasn't Harry's fault the Bludger hit you!"

"Perhaps, but he didn't have to go and curse me! At least then I might not have had a dislocated bone, which hurt like hell!"

"You drew your wand first," she pointed out.

"I… never mind," his eyes narrowed as well, not in anger, though, but in thought. "I have to go, I have work to do that's more important than fighting."

He stood still, looking at her for a moment longer before disappearing behind the bookcase. She stared at the book he'd given her, amazed that he had acted so kindly towards her. Not to mention his ending their short spat first... now, that was something she didn't ever see Draco Malfoy doing. She was certain that he had left only because he genuinely wanted to avoid arguing with her, he saw the sincerity in his eyes. And on that note, she wondered what would have happened if she had never begun the topic of his injury in the first place.

---------------------

Draco stared into the flames as the embers burned lower and turned to ash and the common room began to empty around him. Although his eyes stung with lack of sleep, his churning mind knew that that was a luxury the Slytherin could not enjoy, at least not for the time being. Too much was happening to him.

Lucius entered his mind, and Draco considered again with bitterness the wizard's cowardice in his inability to leave the Dark Lord's side. The teenager himself, along with Narcissa, had found protection under the wing of the Light Side, and Draco had even managed to spy on Voldemort for a while. That was before his parents had argued, however, and Narcissa had revealed to her husband the change in their loyalties. Lucius had, of course, recounted this to Voldemort, and the Order had spent a few weeks terrified for Draco's life.

Nothing had happened to him, of course; Draco had a feeling his father had managed to diminish Voldemort's wrath somehow because he did not want to see his only son killed. Ever since that night, though, Draco had neither seen nor heard from his father, and both he and Narcissa had moved out of the Manor for safety reasons.

There weren't many who knew about this. The majority of the school still suspected Draco of being a Death Eater, of firmly supporting the Dark Lord, just as his father did. Although he hated this constant judgment on the basis of his Lucius' actions, it was simply easier to let things be. He doubted he had the strength to explain everything to people, and besides, he knew there were many who would harm him if they knew the truth – mostly members of his own house.

To add to these worries, there was also the confusing situation with Hermione Granger. Draco had no idea how and when he started picking her out from a crowd, enjoying talking to her, sometimes even searching her out, as he had that day he found her in the Library.

He had been rather envious of the Trio for years, and it was a feeling he was aware of and one he despised. He was jealous of their loyalty to one another, their friendship and the ability to trust, that they had someone to trust in the first place. Aside from maybe his mother, he had nobody like that. Oh, he had 'friends', people he hung out with, but there was nobody he could fully trust, not even Blaise, with whom he had been close ever since childhood. But these relationships weren't comparable to the one he knew Hermione shared with the two Gryffindor boys.

Just then, the entrance to the common room opened and the black-haired Slytherin walked in. Noticing Draco by the fireplace, Blaise approached him and sat down, watching the blond for a moment before speaking.

"So, who is she?" he asked with a grin, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

Draco turned to look at him, thoroughly surprised at the boy's question.

"Who is who?" he asked stupidly.

"Oh, come off it, I know what a bloke looks like when he's thinking about a girl, and you've been wearing that expression quite often recently," Blaise shrugged, then looked at Draco carefully again. "So, who is she?"

"Nobody," Draco muttered, looking back into the flames, but he could no longer focus on his thoughts. He thought he might as well try to get some sleep; that was preferable than having to avoid Blaise's questions. "I'm going to bed."

"I'll find out anyway, you know you won't be able to keep it from me!" Blaise called after him.

---------------------

"I can't believe he set us an essay on top of that other essay!" Ron exclaimed, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"Very articulate you are, Ron," Ginny observed, helping herself to some baked potatoes for lunch. "Harry, when is our next Quidditch match?"

"Not for a few weeks," the black-haired boy replied. "I can't wait to face Malfoy again…"

Hermione pretended to be fully engrossed in eating her steak, but she could not ignore the sudden attention she was paying the conversation now that it had turned to Draco.

…since when had she begun thinking of him as Draco, anyway?

"I bet you that git cursed the bludger just so you couldn't win," Ron proclaimed.

Ginny looked at her brother with mild disbelief. "Do you really think he's that thick? Don't you think the teachers would have looked into the matter?"

"I'd have to agree with my girlfriend on this one, Ron," Harry smiled. "But I'm sure he has something up his sleeve, the way he never seems to pay attention in class, it's almost like last year when he was planning Dumbledore's death…"

"I bet you he's spying on us for…"

"He has nothing up his sleeve and he's definitely not spying," Hermione dropped her cutlery down with a clatter. She felt inexplicably angry at her friends for bad-mouthing Draco as they were, making groundless assumptions sound like facts and suspecting him of all that's bad.

"How do _you _know?" Ron asked her, preparing for a fight.

Hermione realized she'd have to explain what she overheard that summer to them, now, seeing the curiosity and even slight suspicion the three Gryffindors were regarding her with. She sighed before leaning forward and motioning for them to do the same, so that they would not be overheard.

"I heard McGonagall and Lupin discussing his safety this summer," she revealed. "Draco and his mother passed onto our side almost as soon as last year ended, he spied for us secretly for a few months before Lucius found out and both Draco and his mother had to go into hiding."

Harry and the two Weasleys just stared at her for a moment, before Ron burst out laughing.

"That's a good one, Hermione, I almost believed you there," he guffawed.

Hermione's eyes narrowed angrily at his flippant attitude. "I was perfectly serious."

Ginny looked at her friend a moment longer before turning to Harry and her brother. "You know, that does sort of make sense. I mean, you never see him hanging out with his own cronies – or anyone, for that matter. He doesn't get mail at breakfast, and besides, if he really were with Voldemort, do you really think McGonagall would have let him come back?"

"But it's… Malfoy," Harry shook his head, processing what he'd just learned, and Hermione groaned in frustration at how narrow-minded he could be sometimes.

"However unbelievable it might seem to you, it's the truth, get used to it," Hermione told them, gathering her things and heading for the door. She was almost there when Ginny caught up with her and joined her on the elder girl's excursion to the Library.

"All right, suppose what you told us is a fact, that still doesn't explain why you suddenly called him by his first name," the red-haired girl noticed, glancing up at her friend to see her blush.

"I… well… it's his name, right? Malfoy just make same think of his father, and I don't think the two can be associated together any longer," Hermione explained lamely.

"Right. So there's nothing that you're hiding, is there?" Ginny asked, suspecting that something had in fact changed between Hermione and Draco but wanting the girl to reveal this herself.

"No! No, of course not," the Muggleborn denied, almost too vehemently. "I just feel sorry for him, that's all. There's nothing more to it."

Hermione wondered why she suddenly felt that particular unease which invaded her senses every time she lied.

-------------------

Draco walked slowly from the Library, his mind on other matters, when his musings were suddenly interrupted by a flustered Hermione Granger, who, much to his surprise, appeared to be chasing him.

"Malfoy!" she called, noticing that he'd spotted her.

He paused and waited, curious why she was after him. Of course, were any of the other Slytherins with him, he probably would not have given her a second glance, but even if he hadn't yet fully admitted this to himself, he didn't mind the presence of the young witch. In fact, he found himself thinking sometimes that he quite liked it; it was a certainly refreshing change from the sly and cunning and frequently dim individuals who hung around him form his own house.

"What do you want?" he asked her, once she'd caught up with him.

"I just… I was wondering…" she obviously wasn't sure how to phrase her request, and Draco had the sudden feeling he didn't want to hear what would come from her lips. In spite of himself, however, he urged her to speak.

"Spill it out, I don't have all afternoon," he said, harshly.

"I wanted to know what you were doing by the statue of the one-eyed witch that day," she told him, looking him straight in the eye.

Although he was rather surprised by this demand, it was not information he was ready to share, and especially not with one of Harry Potter's best friends. He knew that if the famous "boy who lived" found out about this, he would be expelled faster than he could explain himself.

"I told you it was none of your business," he pushed past her, but her next words stopped him.

"I know you were trying to figure out how to open it. I know how."

He turned around to face her again, slowly, disbelief threatening to overflow his features. How did Miss Perfect know about secret entrances to the school? And why on earth hadn't she told the teachers yet? That was what he would have expected her to do, but he was seriously considering the possibility of having underestimated her.

"How do you know that?" he hissed, walking to stand dangerously close to her.

He did his best to ignore the rich fragrance of vanilla which suddenly assaulted his senses when he found himself mere centimeters from her. He had to give it to the girl, though, she certainly wasn't intimidated easily; she stood her ground.

"I've used it before, but that's beside the point. Tell me why you want to use it, and I'll tell you how to open it," she folded her arms across her chest.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've already worked it out," he smirked as he turned to leave again. Sometimes, random bits of parchment from Filch's office really did come in useful.

Once more, however, he was stopped in his footsteps when she spoke.

"For Merlin's sake, Draco, I won't tell anyone! I'm not suspecting you of any evil activity, I know you're under the protection of the Or…"

He clasped his hand against her mouth as he drove her back towards the wall, glancing around once to reassure himself that they were still alone. Thankfully, they were.

"Shut your mouth!" he paused, staring into her eyes and hoping she would realize that this was no joking matter.

If the wrong people in his house found out about his treachery, he knew he would not stay in Hogwarts for long. At least, not alive. Although he had no doubt that most, if not all, Death Eaters now knew he was not to be trusted, he doubted many of the aspiring supporters of the Dark lord did; Voldemort wouldn't want a mess on his hands because some overzealous supporter decided to prove his loyalties to the Dark side by eliminating Draco.

As he stared at her, his hand loosened the hold her had on Hermione's shoulder and her mouth. He kept staring into her eyes, and began absentmindedly tracing the lips he had just been stifling. It took him a moment to start thinking again and to realize exactly what it was that he was doing, and he moved away from her, quickly.

"Granger, that's classified information and I don't care how you found out, but if the wrong people here discover it also, you'll have my death staining your hands," he warned her, feeling slightly distracted with her wide, honey-brown eyes still staring straight into his.

"Fine, I won't tell anybody, if…" she let the word hang in the air between them, the lips he'd just traced sporting a smirk to rival his own, "if you tell my why you wanted to leave Hogwarts."

"Fine," he frowned, barely realizing he'd raised his voice as he had to admit to himself he'd lost this battle with her. Oh, and how Draco Malfoy hated losing!

"Really?" she looked surprised at how quickly he'd agreed to her terms.

"I was going to see my mother," he said quietly. "I know she's hiding in the area, and I hadn't seen her since the start of the year, I want to make sure my father hasn't found her yet, because Merlin knows your precious Order doesn't think that informing me of the wellbeing of my only living relative is something they should do."

Hermione stared at him, obviously very taken aback by his admission. His frown deepened; let her be surprised then, let her pity him, why should he care?

Putting a finger to his lips to remind her to stay quiet, he marched off down the corridor. Despite his best intentions, he did care.

--------------

Hermione had managed to rearrange her scrambled eggs on her plate multiple times already, her lack of hunger escaping her ravenous friends who were still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. If she were aware of her own acting, she would have been grateful it was still too early for Ron and Harry to be as observant as they usually were. As it were, her own mind wandered and she kept shooting furtive and much too frequent glances at the Slytherin table.

More than once already silver eyes had met brown above the heads of the babbling students, and in between owls delivering mail.

Their last encounter had sunk deep into Hermione's mind, and she kept thinking about how much Draco must have changed over the summer to think like he did now. She could not imagine the spoilt, arrogant and prejudiced boy from previous years to think about his mother, worry about her and her whereabouts, yet here he was, struggling to find the means to see her.

Finally deciding she was sick of sitting there when she wasn't eating anyway, and noticing the blond Slytherin had vanished somewhere, Hermione got up, informed her friends she wanted to get a book out of the Library before class began, and left the Hall.

She wasn't in the Library five minutes when she felt rather than heard him approach her.

"Granger," he greeted, standing next to her, but not doing much else.

"Malfoy," she returned, noticing the guarded expression on his face, and firmly ignoring the thought of how good he looked that morning, with his hair hanging naturally into his eyes rather than being gelled back, and with no sneer disfiguring his features.

"I… I wanted to thank you for not telling anyone," he managed, suddenly looking past her and out the window behind her. "You haven't, have you?"

She looked rather startled and almost hurt when he suddenly asked her that, his eyes finding hers once more for the umpteenth time that morning.

"No," she shook her head. "I told you I wouldn't. After all, how could I live with myself knowing the biggest ferret of them all died because of me?"

She said this with a smile, not meaning to insult him, and finding that she didn't want him to leave, yet. She'd realized how different he was to the boy she once considered him to be, and she wanted to find out more about him. Despite his actions over the previous years, Hermione had a feeling that Draco was actually a much better person than anyone gave him credit for.

She recalled how she'd seen a first-year run into him the other day, on the corridor, and she'd drawn her wand, fully expecting the blond to abuse the kid. She was shocked to see him help the girl up before walking off, accepting her apology. He had no idea, of course, that she had witnessed this prime example of his kindness.

But that, combined with his apology, and the looks they'd been exchanging recently (not only that morning) and the fact he hadn't insulted her, not seriously and cruelly as he used to, once this year all made her think he was he sort of person she would like to get to know better. The sort of person she would like to talk to, someone she could someday consider her friend.

"Feel free to admit you don't want me gone because without me, you'd have no serious competition when it comes to schoolwork, and you'd be bored out of your mind," he teased back, and her eyes widened when she saw him smile.

Not smirk, or sneer, but genuinely smile, straight at her.

He turned to leave, still smiling. "See you around… Hermione."

-----------------

All of the Hogwarts student body attended the Christmas ball, 'awwing' and 'aaaahing' at the spectacular decorations adorning the Great Hall, which had been transformed into ballroom.

Even Draco was impressed (although he wouldn't actually admit this to anyone were somebody to ask him) with the intricate chandeliers, floating candles in various shapes, frozen fireworks suspended among the enchanted stars of the ceiling. He walked confidently in his black dress robes, ignoring the admiring looks he received from the majority of the female attendees. He came alone, and he had no intention of flirting with anyone there.

Well, perhaps with one person… although he highly doubted he would have the chance to, never mind what people would start saying were they to be seen holding a civil conversation with one another.

But then such thoughts flew out of his mind when he saw her at the other end of the chamber, a lilac dress hugging her curves and falling in shimmering elegance to the floor. Her hair fell in waves down her back as she moved over to her two best friends. Even they, Draco noticed, looked impressed.

He swallowed and looked away from her, in the fear someone would notice him gawping. Unfortunately for him, someone did, and they approached him with a face full of unhidden glee.

"So, Granger's the one occupying your mind these days, eh?" Blaise asked, standing close to his friend so that nobody could overhear them. As a Slytherin, discretion was in his blood.

"Sod off, Zabini," Draco warned, not deigning to look at him and taking a sip of his punch.

"Yes, well, I can see why you're sporting that attitude," Blaise continued, smirking. "I doubt that her two bodyguards would let you near enough for you to say 'hi' to her, much less to win her heart, but there is always a slim chance of a miracle…"

"The only miracle that will be occurring here tonight will be you surviving, unless you stop talking." Draco stated, casting the other boy a narrow-eyed glance before moving over to another group of Slytherins and pretending to join in their conversation, although his mind kept wandering to her.

He knew that Blaise was right, of course. But what was he to do? He couldn't help feeling attracted to her, and…

As soon as he realized what he'd thought, Draco shook his head and mentally berated himself. Deciding enough was enough, he excused himself and began walking in the direction of the door, suddenly deciding that an early night was not such a bad idea after all.

He was just passing through the door of the Entrance Hall when he noticed he'd almost walked into someone, someone dressed in a shimmering lilac dress.

"Hi," she said, smiling at him. Was it the lighting, or was she blushing?

"Hi," he responded with a smile. "You look lovely."

She looked at him, surprised, but then smiled. He didn't know where that compliment had come from; he hadn't been thinking about what he was saying, that was certain.

"Well… goodnight, I guess," she said awkwardly, after a moment's silence.

"Goodnight," he replied, perfectly aware of how lame this conversation was but feeling powerless to change this fact. They moved around each other to go to their respective common rooms.

---------------------

Hermione felt nervous, and she kept fiddling with the ring around her finger as she watched all the couples dancing. She felt overdressed and out of place, although this was probably because she was attracting a lot of male attention this night, which was something the Gryffindor bookworm was definitely not used to.

"'Mione, you look wonderful, stop fidgeting," Ron said to her, catching her hands in his own. He and Harry rather incorrectly assumed she was worried about her appearance.

In reality, her mind was on a certain blond Slytherin who was currently having a rather animated conversation with Blaise Zabini on the other side of the Great Hall. She couldn't help but admire the way he looked in his elegant black dress robes, how much she liked his hair naturally falling into his eyes. She tried to ignore the need to go and talk to him; this was neither the place nor time for that.

Not that there ever would be, she reprimanded herself mentally. She and Draco Malfoy could never be more than acquaintances… right?

Not even dancing with boy after boy could distract her thoughts, and finally she gave up, deciding that an early night might do her some good, perhaps bring her some peace of mind. Leaving Harry and Ron to their own devices, she made her way to the exit, and almost bumped into somebody by the Entrance Hall.

"Hi," she said, when she recognized Draco, and suddenly felt a blush colour her cheeks. She prayed he wouldn't notice, though she had a horrible suspicion he was prone to observing such details in a girl's demeanor.

"Hi," he said back, and then added, "You look lovely."

She wondered if this was a sincere compliment, but why would he bother paying it if it wasn't? Without even realizing it, Hermione smiled at him, feeling strangely light and happy all of a sudden.

He didn't look as if he was going to say anything else, though, so she nodded to him.

"Well… goodnight, I guess," she said, moving past him with another smile, towards the staircase.

She had barely made a step, however, when an invisible forced threw her back, right into Draco, who seemed to have the same problem.

"What's going on?" she asked, looking around her and at the wizard in front of her, feeling rather unsettled. Why couldn't she move away from him?

Draco shook his head and opened his mouth, she assumed to say that he had no idea either, when Professor Flitwick's excited squeal drew their attention to the teacher. He was positively beaming at the pair when he looked at them, and then above them.

"Ah, yes, Albus does this every year. The enchanted mistletoe… there's always somebody who gets caught," he smiled. "Well, go on, kiss, or you'll be stuck there for the rest of Christmas!"

His squealing had drawn the attention of a few other students, and as Hermione looked around them, she noticed that more and more people were gathering to watch what would happen.

"Bloody Headmaster, I always knew he was off his rocker," Malfoy muttered. Then, he looked at her, and Hermione could swear she saw a hint of a smile play around his lips as he stepped closer.

"What are you doing?" she asked, feeling indescribably nervous.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I want to get some sleep tonight, so how about we just kiss," he told her, and she could definitely tell he was smiling now.

He leaned down, so close she could see all the fine eyelashes bordering his silvery gaze. So close she felt his breath on her own lips, and almost involuntarily, she moved closer to him to close the distance between them.

When his lips touched the softness of hers, a strange feeling passed through her body, and she stopped caring about the fact they were kissing in front of the whole school. Now, all that mattered was him.

Little did she know his thoughts mirrored her own as he deepened the kiss.

**A/N:**** Thanks for reading, now , please – that's the only payment a Fanfiction author gets, after all! **


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